The Red Tide
by Timballisto
Summary: "Da told me to 'ide. Got quiet. Da won't wake up." Jared looked up at her with anxious eyes. "He said if 'e wouldn't wake up you'd take care of me." TrisOC Family Fic; Warning Blood
1. Chapter 1:The Crimson Emperor

This is the first chapter for my Kris Eleven Challenge, I doubt I'll actually be able to get it all finished before the deadline, but I'll finish it, one way or another.

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It was early, the pale light of the Capchen sun rose over the city of Ninver, the weak light blocked by the smoky haze that continually perpetuated the cramped, sprawling city. The peat fields that surrounded the city smoked from subterranean fires contributed to the unpleasantness of Ninver, but the two murky, sludge filled rivers that forked around the river delta the place was built on gave the whole area the rancid smell of decay.

Standing on the deck of the small ferry that was wading itself across the muck, Trisana Chandler wished more than ever that she had ignored the letter. Ripped it up, even.

The red haired bespectacled mage scowled as she fingered the worn piece of parchment, the ink slightly smudged from her anxious reading and re-readings. The creases had deepened to the point where the merest touch let the letter flop open, sending another flush of unease through Tris as she traced the letters again….

_Dearest Sister,_

_If you are reading this, then the conditions have become desperate enough for my servant to see this delivered to you. I regret I cannot send this to you personally, as even now, the Emperor, crowned just this past fortnight, is watching House Chandler._

_I will be frank with you, if we do not sign the new Merchant Charter, he will execute everyone connected to House Chandler. There is a reason he is known as the Scarlet Sword, he has a penchant for killing even the pets of those he executes. You are safe, sister, under the protection of the Duke of Emelan and his heiress, Sandrilene fa Toren who I understand you regard as siblings of a sorts._

_My son, your nephew, is not._

_I married just five years ago, at the insistence of Father, to the cousin of the Old Emperor. Now, as she has left me a widower just this past spring, my son is the next in line and a threat to the current imperial rule. I worry for him, Trisana, the Emperor is a ruthless man and has not let age stop his bloody mark on Capchen. _

_Fanatics have overrun the streets; anyone who doesn't worship the Emperor is accused of heresy and treason and is executed by fire. The truth doesn't matter anymore; when you have been accused they threaten everything and everyone you love and torture you to confess. _

_I know I wasn't there when you needed me, Tris, but I don't want my son to die. I want him to pass his fourth birthday and learn how to walk and talk and love and-_

A few spots of ink betrayed the authors trembling hand.

_I want you to take him away from here, Tris. I want him to be safe away from this hell that used to be our home. There have been rumors of the Emperors men moving in, even as I write this letter to you, and I know that the life line of House Chandler is growing short._

_Your servant,_

_Niall Chandler_

Tris sighed as she tucked the letter back into the small leather pouch that hung from her side, the symbols for safety and prosperity shining a golden glint of magic in the corner of her eye.

Niall…it had been ages since she had thought of her younger brother. He had only been six when she had been sent away for the first time, and only vague recollections of a giggling little boy with unruly amber hair and bright blue eyes remained of her estranged sibling.

Tris generally wasn't a very forgiving person, heaven knows the grudge she had against her father and mother hadn't ended with their deaths only the past year. They had been the first to start the bitter road she had tread until she had finally come home to Discipline with her true family. However, even she couldn't leave a child to be executed, no matter what lineage, or what they were related to.

As the ferry touched to the dock, Tris absently threw a few coins to the scruffy ferryman before stepping off onto the hard wood of the quay. The weather witch had to choke down the lump that had appeared in her throat as she turned to see the tall creaking masts, each flying the flag of Capchen, two white rampant griffins on a black field, and the merchant house flag beneath it. Most of them were adorned with a blue coat of arms on a white field, the letter C barely visible while they flapped in the wind.

House Chandler.

Tearing her eyes away, Tris stiffly managed to get to the street, mechanically following her feet as they remembered the twisting route to the merchant quarter, the winds that clung to her like a second skin rustling and snapping like her fraying temper.

She knew she shouldn't have opened that letter.

o0o0o0o0o

It was night when Tris could finally manage to drag herself to the towering gates of the House Chandler complex. The moon was barely half full, but bright enough to light to streets that were unlit by lanterns. The huge stone columns, carved into ornate laurels and flowered trees were silent sentinels, echoing the arguments of decades past…

Tris shook her head as she passed through the gates, perturbed by the silence of the courtyard. Usually, unless it had changed since she was eight, it would be teeming with the Night Watch, the hired guard the House used to protect its inhabitants.

Where were they?

Tris exited the courtyard, striding down the long hallway, wind licking at her heels. Then she turned onto the main courtyard.

The heady, rusty smell of blood permeated the air like foul smoke. The ground, once dirt, was clotted a dark red that squelched like marsh mud beneath her shoes. The white washed walls of the small empty space was painted with a spatter pattern of red, seeping from the bodies pinned to the walls by crossbow bolts-

Tris turned away, her internal fight with her gag reflex losing as she lost the remains of the lunch she had eaten at the inn. She had seen the dead, at Tharios, killed by a vengeful _prathmun_ serial killer, but nothing like thi_s. _These bodies were desecrated, slashed and hacked like carcasses before a butcher,.

Men, their faces caught in terror, terror for their families or for their lives, Tris didn't know.

Women, dried tear tracks on their stiff faces as their faces contorted in pain or grief.

Children, confused, scared, alone eyes open and trusting, even as the sword came down-

"Mama?"

Tris started, quickly turning to face the voice that had called out from amid the carnage. The two braids that framed her face sparked and she gathered her magic to protect herself.

"Mama! Mama!"

Tris's head snapped to the left, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pinpoint the panicked child. Movement caught her eye and she quickened her step as she approached a shifting horse corpse. She recognized the stallion as her father's pride thoroughbred, it's eyes milky and white. The white of the horses body was stained with puddles of red on it's hide from spear wounds to the flanks and throat, it had clearly been attacked and killed with about as much mercy as anyone else.

"Help me!"

Tris knelt down and lifted the horses heavy neck, dragging it off of the small body it had been crushing and blinked as the small red-headed blur sprung up and tackled her middle. She looked down to see the crying face of a small toddler looking up at her, his bright green eyes puffy with tears as snot ran down his nose. "Da won't wake up!" the little boy cried, his voice echoing over the silent courtyard. "I tried to shake him awake but juice kept coming out and Gran'pa and Gran'ma won't either and-"the boy relapsed into gibberish, too tired and hysterical to be coherent.

"Shhh." Tris whispered, partly to reassure the little kid and partly to keep away from any straggling killers. The little boy clutched at Tris's wide breeches, burying his wet face into its folds.

"Da said you would come." The little boy murmured, exhausted from his small episode. "He said you was my Aunt and you'd keep me safe, just like Mama."

Tris looked down at the little boy. Could it be?

"Is your name Jared?" Tris asked quietly, kneeling down to the little kids' small height.

"Ya'" Jared mumbled, slipping a little on the blood-slicked ground. "'m Jared."

"What happened?" Tris murmured, wiping away some of the filth away from his face with the hem of her skirt.

"I was 'avin a bath. Lotsa' yellin'. Red guys' wit' long pointy sticks and swords, like the stuff Da tells me not to touch." Jared wiped his dripping nose off on the back of his hand. "Da told me to 'ide. Got quiet. Da won't wake up." Jared looked up at her with anxious eyes. "He said if 'e wouldn't wake up you'd take care of me."

Tris felt her face soften. "Come on." She muttered, taking his hand in hers. They had only gone as far as the main gates when Jared started to lag, his green eyes drifting shut as he stumbled along.

Tris sighed and picked up the five year old, her winds reaching out to caress Jared's filthy blood and dirt covered face and envelope him in a cocoon of winds imbued with the warm thrum of her magic. Jared found himself lulled into oblivion, and the next time he would awake, it would to the rocking of a ship back to Emelan.


	2. Chapter 2:Concussive

Second chapter, featuring an injury as per the challenge.

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"Auntie, I'm bored."

Tris looked back to see her young nephew Jared standing in the middle of the kitchen of Number 6 Cheeseman Street, his six year old face contorted into a pout. Sighing, Tris turned away from the simmering stew that the large group staying in the house would be eating for supper later, and faced Jared.

The two months since Tris had taken him from the bloody massacre of House Chandler had done much to help along the psychological damage to being doused in your own father's lifeblood, but Tris knew he wasn't the same boy he would have been if none of it had ever happened.

Tris shook her head slightly and turned an amused smile to her nephew, eyebrow raised.

"And what would you like me to do about that?"

Jared frowned. "I dunno! That's why I asked you Auntie!"

"Why don't you go find your Uncle Briar? I'm sure he'll play with you."

Jared scratched the back of his head. "Uncle B'iar won't play with me. 'E says he's got a _date_." Jared frowned. "Girls are..." Jared's nose crinkled.

"What about Aunt Daja or Sandry?" Tris was grasping for straws here, she had to be at the library to work on her thesis of weather patterns with Niko in half an hour.

"They's at Lark and Scary Ladies house."

Tris stifled her amusement at her little nephew's innocent way of describing Rosethorn, who had made her impatience with little children quite clear when Tris had gone to introduce him to Glaki.

"Why don't you go get your Uncle Calcifer?" Tris asked, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

Jared frowned. "Uncle Cal'fer don't like me." He muttered, sniffling. "When I want'a play with 'im 'e gets all stiff. And 'e gets this look on 'is face." Jared bugged out his eyes in a comical rendition of Calcifer. "And then he runs away!" Jared waved his arms in emphasis.

Tris raised a thin eyebrow. Really, her husband, terrified of children?

"Go tell him to grow up then," Tris said, pulling a shawl against the cool fall breeze that was barely starting to penetrate the harbor city. "I don't have time for him to act like a child."

Jared cocked his head, squinting at Tris out of one green eye, his nose scrunched in thought.

"Alrigh'" he finally decided, and he raced out of the kitchen, his little sandaled feet thumping on the wooden stairs as he ran up to where his Uncle was napping.

The room shared by Calcifer and Tris was dark and quiet; the only sound being the almost silent breathing of the man slumped on the bed, his white blonde hair in disarray. His eyes, a light brown, almost amber, flickered under his eyelids as he hovered on the cusp of deep sleep and dozing. Calcifer smiled sleepily as a particularly good dream washed over him, and he sighed, sinking deeper into unconsciousness-

"Oof!" Calcifer jerked up as a pair of feet impacted his stomach, forcing all the air out of his lungs. His eyes bugged out as he tried to catch his breath, twisting as he tried to lift the offending nephew off of his midriff.

"W-what was that for?" Calcifer sputtered, holding his nephew up by the armpits, levering the boy off of his stomach.

"Auntie says you have to watch me, 'cause she's going to the lib'ary." Jared said solemnly, seemingly ignoring his suspended state, his large green eyes unblinking as he looked up at his sleep mussed uncle.

Calcifer's eyes widened, the night grit in his eyes dislodging as he fixed Jared with an alarmed stare.

"I thought Briar was going to watch you?"

Jared shook his head, his nose scrunching in disgust. "'E's going with that _Alice_ girl."

Calcifer raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with Alice?"

Jared looked up at Calcifer incredulously. "She's just like the Scary Lady!"

Blinking, Calcifer stared at Jared, confused. "Who?"

Jared huffed in annoyance, blowing his wispy red hair out of his eyes. "That Rosie lady!"

"Rosethorn?" Calcifer asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

Jared nodded. "Yup."

Shaking his head, Calcifer dragged himself back to the pertinent subject. Pin the responsibility of Jared on others. "What about Daja and Sandry?"

"They're with the Scary Lady!" Jared exclaimed, exasperated with his slow guardian. "Auntie said you have to grow up, and stop actin' like a child!"

"I don't like kids." Calcifer whined, sounding a lot like a kid himself.

Jared scowled. "Well, I don't like grown-ups none either!"

o0o0o0o0o0o

Calcifer groaned as he grabbed his aching head, a skull splitting pain pounding in the back of his head.

"Wha' happened?" his mouth felt thick and gummy and the back of his throat scratched as though it were packed full of sand.

A tearful face of green eyes, red hair and a drippy nose appeared above him. "I'm sorry U'cle! I didn't mean it!"

"What happened?" Calcifer said, this time in a clearer voice.

"Ah good, you're awake." Calcifer twisted his neck, hissing at the pain in the back of his head, to look at the source of the voice.

"Sybil?" Calcifer asked, confused. "What're you doing here?"

The healer looked over from her position at the foot of Calcifer's bed (he noticed he had managed to get into his room), her worn wrinkled face lined with worry lines and framed by graying hair. She was the healer they employed to do annual health checkups ever since Calcifer had moved in with Tris six years ago, when they had both been eighteen. Sybil's house was almost six streets away; there was no way Jared could have gotten all that way by himself.

"I was next door, delivering Mrs. Lavina's baby when you're young lad here came running over, hysterical, yelling about blood everywhere in the garden." Sybil said, her mouth twisted into an amused smirk. "Not to fret, it was only a concussion dear; I fixed it up with a quick dab of magic and a bandage. You'll be fine and up and about tomorrow if you don't move your head around."

"I can't remember…" Calcifer trailed off, furrowing his brow and chancing a quick look at the relieved and shamefaced looking Jared.

"You'd best tell him lad," Sybil said wisely as she packed up her healer's bag and made for the door. "It'll only get worse for you if you don't." Then she was out the door, down the stairs and gone.

"Jared…" Calcifer said in his best imitation of Tris's warning tone (it seemed to have worked, because Jared was looking terrified).

"I wanted to play pebbles with you!" Jared blurted, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. "No one plays with me here! Glaki and Auntie are to0 old and you-" Jared blinked and the tears made their way down his face. "-you hate me." Jared's voice dropped into an ashamed whisper.

"I don't hate you." Calcifer protested weakly. "Why would you say that?"

"You said you hated kids." Jared said, sniffling as his nose started to drip and his eyes turned red and blotchy. "And you don't like to talk to me."

Calcifer shifted uncomfortably. "Continue." He said slightly gruffly as guilt filled his throat like bitter medicine.

"So I throwed pot at you." Jared mumbled.

"A pot? Did it have a plant in it?" Calcifer asked quickly, thinking to Briar and how pissed he would be if Jared managed to mange one of his priceless shakkans.

"Nothing in it." Jared muttered, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Calcifer sighed and opened his arm to the pathetic little figure Jared cut, his bleeding heart not letting him just leave his nephew to stand there while he slipped back into sleep. Jared grinned and sprang forward, burrowing into Calcifer's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Calcifer's middle.

"Well aren't you quick on the rebound?" Calcifer muttered.

"What?" Jared mumbled, already sleepy.

"You know what Jared?" Calcifer said suddenly, staring at the ceiling.

"Ya'?"

"I'll be your friend."

"You will!" Jared's arms tightened. "Really?"

Calcifer nodded slowly. "One one condition,"

Jared's head popped up, looking at Calcifer suspiciously. "What?"

"You don't jump on me when I'm sleeping, got it?"

Jared nodded happily and returned to his warm position in the crook of Calcifer's arm, basking in the heat of his uncle's body as his heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Two hours later, Tris came home to see a passed out duo in her bed, one with a head wrapped in white linen, the other with a blotchy face from tears.

And they were the cutest thing she had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3:Family Philosophy

This is the third chapter in my KrisEleven April-May Challenge submission. More OC goodness starring Jared, Calcifer, and Tris.

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The nights were beginning to shorten in Summersea, Emelan. The gardens of the Winding Circle temple began to change, leafy green engulfed by fires of yellow and orange maple and oak leaves. The days had a crisp snap to the air and the nights were becoming cold enough to require low burning night fires and heavy quilts.

It was getting darker.

Jared shivered as he huddled in his cold bed, his feet and hands frigid as blocks of ice. Aunt Tris had said over dinner that cold winter sleet was coming in tonight, and he could tell. Even as he heaped more of the downy quilts onto his head, trying to warm his cold hands, the keen of wind could be heard outside his window, and a draft was managing to get through the warped window sill.

Giving it up as a bad job, Jared swung out of bed, his matured twelve year old legs greeting him as he slid out of bed and padded across the cold wood floor to his chest of drawers. Clumsily lighting a taper from the smoldering coals of his fireplace, Jared lit up his candle and smiled as the comforting light sparked blue.

Despite the more child oriented gifts he'd gotten from his various uncles and aunts (Or great-aunts and uncles, considering they were Tris's foster parents), the candleholder had been his favorite.

Jared smiled slightly as he traced the engravings on the metal. The knotted string, the golden eye, the thorny rose, the crane, and the lark as chased each other around it's ornate base, cast out of Daja's living metal and rubbed by oils infused by all of his extended family. It reeked of magical protection and warmed his cold fingers.

The colored flames of the melting wax candle were a testament to his recent apprenticeship to the local chemist as well as his growing aptitude in academic magic. The flames popped as he stroked the candle and he grinned, the familiar feel of his families' magic washing over him.

Ever since The Dark Day, he had had nightly terrors. Fears and nightmares that were so easily brushed off in the daylight stuck to his brain at night until he would run himself ragged or Uncle Briar would drug him asleep.

Aunt Sandry said having a candle or a light nearby helped, and now he seldom had the debilitating nightmares he had endured a little over two years ago.

Jared closed his eyes in contentment and inhaled the aromatic scent of pine and sandalwood he had infused in the wax, his eyes drooping as calming effects of the smell helped numb his cold.

"What are you doing up so late Jared?"

Jared jumped, almost knocking over the candle as he turned to see the exhausted and concerned face of his uncle, Calcifer, peering at him around his door.

"Too cold." Jared mumbled, scuffing his barefoot on the wood floor.

Still in his traveling cloak and heavy woolens from a late night call to the hospital. Calcifer loaned out his magic to the Winding Circle infirmary for a night a week, letting the healers use his magic to healer in return for Tris's unrestricted acess to the library, which was for Dedicates and er mages with Lightsbridge credentials. Tris hadn't been happy when the headmaster had refused to allow a weather mage into the school, blocking her dream of a steady income.

Calcifer blinked and noticed the freezing temperature of the room and his breath clouding, and turned his ochre gaze on Jared.

"You let the fire die again, didn't you?"

Jared scowled and stuck out his chin and fisted his hands on his hips, a pose he could only have learned from Sandry. "I only did that once, Uncle, and no, I lit the candle with it."

"Hm," Calcifer snorted, the dark circles that precluded magical exhaustion standing out on his skin. "Well, you can kip out in our room then."

Jared brightened and ran past his uncle, keeping silent as he ran down the hallway past Aunt Daja and Uncle Briar's rooms (Taking care not to disturb any bedmates his single bachelor uncle was hosting) and quietly opened the door at the end of the hallway. Muttering quiet blessings to Shurri Firesword, the patron god of flame, Jared scrambled over to the roaring fire in the fireplace, nearly smothering it with his nearness.

"Don't burn yourself Jared." Aunt Tris's brisk voice came from the bed where she was quietly reading a book, keeping a vigil while her husband was away.

"I won't burn," Jared said, his teeth chattering. "I'll thaw."

Tris snorted and returned to her book, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she looked back down at the page.

The fire cackled and popped as Calcifer quietly made his way into the room, stripping off his heavy winter gear as his donned a simple nightshirt and a pair of loose flannel trousers that covered his feet. Easing into the mattress with a groan, Calcifer pillowed his head on Tris's abdomen and promptly fell asleep. As usual, Tris ignored him and continued to read her book.

Jared smothered a smile as his usually uptight Aunt laid her hand on Calcifers head, her fingers absentmindedly running themselves through the mans hair.

Aunt and Uncle...Mom and Da?

Jared frowned. He had never knew his mother, and his Father...

He had loved his Father and his father had loved him, enough to die for him, but... they hadn't been close, he didn't think. He remembered the stern frown and grim set of Father's jaw, his formal speech and guarded expression. The only time his father had ever spent with him had been the week before The Dark Day, when he had shirked his duties as the head of the Chandler family and had spent every waking moment with his son. He had fed him, bathed him, told him stories, and had held him, often. In retrospect, the man had been trying to cram six years of love in a week.

Was it betraying his Father, the man who had essentially sacrificed his life for him and had given him this family now...if he called Tris his mom, or if he called Calcifer his da?

Jared sighed and stretched out on the hearth in front of the fire, filching a pillow and blanket from the foot of the bed. Philosophical questions defining his family could wait until tomorrow, when hopefully, it would be warmer.

* * *

Third chapter, finished! Honestly, this took me forever. Anyway, I have a question for my lovely readers.

Would it be weird if I gave Jared a crush on Evvy? Or Glaki?

1) With Evvy, I imagine if Jared is twelve she would be...what? Fourteen? It probably would only be a crush, but those are so fun to manipulate!

2) Glaki however, is a bit different. She's approximatly the same age I believe, but I don't know whether they would regard each other as sibings, and that would be weird.

It won't really even be a pairing, I just want to use this as a plot device, but I want to give readers some choice in this, at least.

Review it to me people.


	4. Chapter 4:City of the Mind

Fourth chapter! I have two more days to finish the fifth and then I'm done!

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Panic. Terror. Darkness twisted around, stifling his mouth and throat as he choked on darkness, catching the scream as it rose to erupt out of his mouth-

"Calcifer!"

Mother? Aunt Tris? A familiar voice called to him through his haze of terror and fear, cold sweat beading his brow. Where was he, what was going on? Why did the darkness press on him so?

"Calcifer?"

Father? He turned toward the voice, joy in his face. A pale patch of moonlight, its source invisible, stained across a white washed wall, illuminating his father's sharp cheekbones, pale face, and red hair. The visage of his father twisted into a bittersweet expression and he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of words, blood came out.

He screamed, backing away as his father clutched at the spear that had materialized in his gut and shoulder, confused even as blood leaked out of his mouth. Hurt lanced through his father's eyes and he reached for him with bloody fingers, drops of crimson impacting on the stone floor-

Jared sat up bolt upright, his form soaking wet from the urn of water that had been emptied over his head, soaking his nightshirt to his chest and pasting his hair, darkened by water to maroon, to his face.

Blinded by cold water and the prick of his hot tears, Calcifer shuddered in the cold. Longnight had past not two months hence and the nighttime air still required heavy comforters and woolen nightwear.

"Jared," the soft voice of Sandry jerked his head from its resting place on his chest, the tears that ran down his cheeks clearly visible. "Another nightmare?"

Jared jerked his head in agreement, uncomfortable with anyone seeing his distress.

"W-where is Aunt Tris and Uncle Calcifer?"

"Tris drugged Calcifer with Briars sleepy tea before taking some herself." Sandry said wryly. "I think she was cross at him coming home from his commissions at all hours of the night."

Jared managed a weak grin before he took a few deep, calming breaths.

"You know what I used to do for nightmares?" Sandry said, smiling nostalgically as she picked at his wet comforter.

"Yeah, you used Aunt Tris's light crystal right?" Jared said, he had already heard this tale before. In fact, this story was the reason his candle was still sparking green sparks by his bedside, not that it kept away the really bad dreams.

"'Yes," Sandry smiled, catching Jared's exasperated expression. "But I've told you that one before."

"Yeah." Jared said quickly, trying to escape one of his Aunts lectures.

"I made a map."

What? Jared blinked and turned to Sandry, his expression blank and curious.

"You've known basic meditation since you were eight, Jared. Didn't you ever think of using that to make the nightmares go away?" there was a slight tinge of disapproval in her voice, coloring Jared's face red with consternation.

He had already used meditation in the daytime, to sooth his fraying temper when he dealt with troublesome patients and customers at the apothecary/healers apprenticeship. He used the technique daily yet… he hadn't thought to use it before bed, or after he had woken from his nightmares. What kind of mage was he? If he couldn't use his magic to heal _himself…_ even if it was only mental trauma, how could he do well?

"Organize your mind." Sandry instructed, her voice slipping into 'teacher' mode. Ingrained by years of habit, he instinctively began his meditation. "File everything in its proper place and lock them away. Make a mental map, colored with your memories so you won't forget where your magic put them."

Jared opened his eyes in surprise. You could misplace your memories?

Sandry actually looked sheepish. "Just a birthday, that's all."

Jared's eyes widened in aprehension. This could take something from him. Some precious memory could be misplaced or erased. What if he forgot how to speak or how to write?

"Don't worry, concentrate and you'll be fine." Sandry said soothingly, her magic touching his briefly.

Jared smiled in relief at the comfort and drew himself into his magical core, sinking himself deep into his magic. Gathering up the glowing sun of magic, Jared stretched it with his being, pounding it and shapingfear it into a flat plane. Colors danced across the surface of the impromptu map of his magic, begging to be categorized, stored, and be put out of the way.

Carefully, Jared touched the glittering object, running his memories through winding streets, paved with magic. He locked his early years away in a citadel, located to the east of the city of memories he was planning in his own head. His family, precious and adored, were located on Cheeseman street, the tall walls of Winding Circle enclosing those of Rosethorn, Lark, Niko, and Glaki.

Jared sighed in contentment as he opened his eyes. The pale light of misty dawn cracked through his shutters. He had been meditating for a few hours, he guessed, as Aunt Sandry was gone.

Lying back on his now dry pillows, Jared allowed a smile to grace his lips.

He did not dream.


	5. Chapter 5:The Circle Continues

Last chapter! yay!

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Jared whistled a jaunty tune to himself as he walked through the gate of Winding Circle. The guards gave him a cursory glance before brightening in recognition at the flashing copper coin that bore Lark and Rosethorns insignias. A few of them, clad in the red of a Fire Dedicate waved to him as he passed through.

Still whistling, he made his way down the winding road until he reached a small cottage nestled against the south wall. Jared's face brightened as he took in the bright thatch, the new whitewash, and the freshly painted door.

"Yes!" he shouted, thrusting his fist into the air. "I missed spring cleaning!" Jared cackled with glee as his did a little jig, uncaring of the small coating of dust now covering his sandaled toes. "Now all I have to do is drop off Briars package and then I'm free-ack!"

"Getting rather lazy, eh boy?" Rosethorn said, amusement coloring her dry voice as she dragged Jared along by his ear. "Tris was never this lazy; it must be that foster father of yours."

"Ow, ow, ow…" Jared whined, awkwardly following his ear as it was tugged through the open door into the airy cottage. "Gah! Unhand me woman!"

Rosethorn tsked in the back of her throat, giving his abused ear another hard yank. "Mind your elders' boy, you're worse than Evvy." The street girl from Chammur had certainly tried her patience on more than one occaision, especially with her incessant denunciation of plants as 'rock killers'.

"Rosethorn," Larks slightly concerned voice drifted in from her workroom. "Jared's not finished with his apprenticeship as a healer and he don't know how to reattach limbs yet, please don't tear his ear off."

Clapping his hand to his ear, Jared glared at the unrepentant face of Rosethorn, grumbling under his breath.

"Briar said to give you this." Jared mumbled, fishing a small box out of his pocket.

Frowning, Rosethorn took it and surveyed it with a gimlet eye, running her finger the magical containment symbols stamped on the side.

"Did Briar say what this was?" the plant mage asked with a frown.

Jared shrugged, still rubbing his ear. "He said somethin' about it being." Jared stopped for dramatic effect. "_the_ _key_."

The corner of Rosethorns mouth twitched before she turned and strode into her own workroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Well, seeing as I have no reason to be here…" Jared turned on his heel and made toward the front door, only to stop short at the sight of sixteen year old Evvy leaning against the doorframe, arms across her chest, her trousers smudged with coal dust.

"You weren't goin'ta leave without saying hello were you?" Evvy grinned, her Chammur drawl slurring her accented Common.

Jared colored, his mouth going slack as he stammered a barely intelligible excuse through his blushes.

Evvy's grin turned into concern as she put a calloused hand on Jared's forhead, turning him an even brighter shade of red. "Are you okay Jared? Are you sick?"

Jared managed to jerk his head negatively. Evvy shrugged, her grin returning.

"Oh gods," Jared mumbled as his eyes fixated on her bronzed skin and traced the contour of her chin down her throat and…his breath hitched.

In the distance, the Hub clock boomed twice, jerking Jared out of his stupor.

"Eh, I have to go Jared!" Evvy called as she left. "Dedicate Gypstone gets impatient if I'm late! See you later!"

Jared staggered a little as his extremities came back under his control. His breathing slowed to its normal rhythm and his color came back to its usual hue.

"Uhhh," Jared shook his head to get rid of the bad (but oh so good) thoughts in his head. "That's so not fair. Goddamn hormones."

Larks own face was bright red, and her aged form shook with suppressed laughter. "Oh…my gods," Lark managed to gasp past her laughter. "You looked …" Larks merriment intensified and her tinkling laughter filled the cottage, causing Jared to scowl at the floor.

"Shut up." Jared muttered, his cheeks flushing to match his red hair.

"Boy!" Rosethorns muffled voice called him to her workroom. Giving one last dark look to the chuckling Lark, Jared opened the heavy oaken door and stepped into the workroom.

"Yeah?" Jared asked, poking his head around the doorframe.

"Get this to Briar will you?" Rosethorn shoved something cold and metal in his hands.

Jared blinked as he looked down at the little key in his hands. Even without extending his magical senses, he could feel the magical power leaking off of the small item. It was the color of bronze, and polished to a bright finish, so much so that it almost looked like gold in his hand.

"What is it?" He asked, marveling at the intricate designs imbedded on its sides.

"You'll see." Rosethorn said cryptically, before pushing Jared out the door and into the front garden. "Get home and show it to Briar."

Laden with curiosity, Jared ran all the way home, avoiding carts, people, and the occasional stray dog.

"Uncle Briar!" Jared yelled as he barreled through the front door, absentmindedly canceling the security magics on the front entrance as he ran through the kitchen and out to the back garden. "Rosethorn said to give this to you!"

Briar, his face shaded by a wide brimmed hat, looked up and grinned. His teeth were bright white on his dusky skin as he gave his nephew a rough hug.

"Eh, what this?" Briar took the key from Jared's hands, running his dirt streaked hands down the smooth metal, fingering the series of prongs on the key. He nodded in approval. "It'll be hard to pick this lock." He said, winking at Jared.

Bouncing with excitement, Jared couldn't help but blurt out what was on his mind. "What's it for?"

Grinning, Briar motioned for him to follow as he quickly crossed the threshold of the kitchen and bounded up the stairs to his room.

Jared tried not to stare at the female undergarments strewn around the room and focused on what Briar was fiddling with under his mussed bed.

"This is for you kid." Briar shoved the box at Jared. "It's from all of us. You start at the Infirmary next week, so we figured you needed your own healers kit."

Jared's hands trembled as he traced the emblem stamped into the box. The frame was metal, metal he knew came from Daja's priceless living metal supply. Wood, grown into place by Briar made up the sides and the lid and Tris's especially strong protective enchantments were woven around and strengthened by Calcifers own magic.

Briar pressed the key into his hand, and Jared turned it in the lock. The lid sprung open, and Jared's eyes started to water slightly as he caressed the fabric that lined the box, woven by Sandry to suppress magic and reject stains.

"Thank you!" Jared cried, burying his face into Briar's chest, wrapping his arms around his foster uncle as tears of happiness leaked out of his eyes and got Briars shirt all wet. Pulling back, he noticed the rest of his family, gathered in the doorway, smiling at him.

Launching himself at them, Jared's magic pulsed in contentment.

The Circle continued.


End file.
